Frore
by shomarus
Summary: It's now that Carol Aird thinks that she's finally free from the woes of love. It's then that Therese Semco, part-time musician and aspiring photographer, enters her life.
1. rule of thirds

**[author's notes]**

 **this blends both movie verse with book verse, although you can see the movie verse shines through a little more.**

 **disclaimer: i don't drink, i will never drink, and bar etiquette is something that escapes me. any mistakes (in terms of the setting) is more than likely due to a lack of available research elements. in any case, thank you for taking a read!**

* * *

"A martini, if you will? Oh, and dry. Please."

Carol flashed a coy smile the bartender's way, to which he nodded, tossing a similar sort of smile her way. Carol wasn't exactly an uncommon guest at Gertrude's, and the divorce certainly had not helped things in the slightest. If anything, Carol's infrequent drop-ins became much more constant, and any regular from around the area knew why. In short: Harge was a dastardly bastard, and Carol really wanted nothing more than to see him burn. Alas.

The drink was placed in front of her, and Carol took a sip. "Thanks, you're a dear." She stared at the bartender's back for a moment as he walked down to help another customer, before she turned her head to look at the rest of the place. Admittedly, most of the customers were ones she could pick out of a crowd fairly easily. Although Carol would hardly call herself one to gloat, the bar absolutely _reeked_ of high society. Pricey drinks for folks with pricier attitudes; Carol couldn't say she was exempt from that group.

Though today, something interesting walked through those doors. Carol placed the glass to her lips, and imitated a look of smug curiosity; one eyebrow raised while she smudged the rims with a lipstick-coated smirk.

"You can't back out of it now, Terry," spoke a man with a rather skittish-looking woman attached to his sleeve. "Besides, you could do with a drink or two. You look a little frazzled."

"No, no. Nervous," the woman managed to choke out after a moment or so. _Christ_ , Carol thought with a twinge of amusement. _Son of a gun can't tell when his own girlfriend is uncomfortable?_ Or rather, perhaps he's hoping that she _isn't_ , and covered it up with false bravado. Something that painfully reminded her of her own ex-husband, though perhaps it'd be animalistic to judge all men as barbaric because of two bad encounters. Carol looked away, but kept one ear trained to the conversation.

The man smiled. "Well, it's our first night out as a married duo. Of course you'd be a little nervous about the whole thing, right? Come on, let's get you a drink."

Carol snorted, and turned back to them. They sat themselves at a table, while Richard eyed up the bartender. God. What a way to miss hundreds of social cues; the poor thing was practically shaking in her boots. Downing yet another sip of alcohol, Carol felt her eyes roll.

"Richard," the woman started with no undue amount of unsureness in her tone, "you didn't have to do this, you know? Take me out. I mean, I was happily content to relax and watch a movie at home."

The couple began to bicker (in hushed tones, of course, because there was a standard to be held in such a place like this), and Carol felt no envy for this Terry character at all. Sympathy was a given—Harge had been just as pushy, and Carol had been just as much a pushover. In all stages except the end of course, and Carol took a private little pleasure in debating over whether these two would be returning to Gertrude's or not. Carol's best guess was that Richard would be back in one month's time, without Terry on his arm and very much with a chip on his shoulder.

Then again, Carol's been wrong before ( _wrong about a certain Harge_ , came the thought in all its bitterness). Would Carol say she'd be particularly happy about being wrong in this instance? Well, perhaps not. It wasn't her place to say whether Richard and Terry were necessarily happy or not.

She was vaguely drunk and sticking her nose in places where it didn't belong, as per the course.

"Richard!" A man from across the bar hustled up to the duo, and Richard looked absolutely delighted. "Shit, it really _is_ you. You could have told me that you were heading to New York, hey?"

"Phil, it's great to see you," Richard stood up to give a welcoming hug to the supposed friend. "We were planning to leave it as a surprise until next week, actually."

"We, you say?"

Richard's grin widened. "Why yes! Therese and I married just a month ago! I couldn't have been a luckier guy even if I wanted to be, Phil." Therese said nothing, but offered up a polite smile. Carol's eyes flicked away; she had a cute smile, and she'd forever curse herself for even having that thought in the first place.

"Congratulations, Therese, Richard. By the way," Phil continued, after dipping his head and smiling, "I know a guy who's looking for submissions to an art exhibition of sorts. Not quite a competition, but word on the street is that the guy hosting it's actually a talent scout. I was gonna phone you up on Sunday about it, but since you're already here… You got a minute to spare?"

"Oh, shoot." Richard gave a look to Therese. "You don't mind, baby? I'll be back with you in a smidge." Therese signalled to him, shooing him off with a flick of her hand, and she smiled again. As soon as Richard and Phil were off in the corner, Carol figured that this was her chance.

Carol's tipsy enough to the point where she might not hate herself in the morning.

Therese looked pleasantly shocked when Carol took her glass and slid into the seat across from hers—the one that Richard had been sitting in. Getting a closer look at her, Carol took in the intricacies of her character. Her hair curled towards the center of her face, and her eyes were big, green. Like grass against a warm autumn's light. Carol could have stared for hours.

"Forgive me for the intrusion," she spoke airily. "You don't mind me taking a quick seat, do you? If I'm making you uncomfortable, I want to know."

"No," Therese said, after a moment of contemplation. "They'll be talking for a while yet. Richard and Phil, I mean. They've been friends for quite a while, and I…"

Carol stared at Therese with a smile.

"Forgive me, I've lost my train of thought… Ah, I haven't introduced myself, have I?"

"It's only been, what, a minute?" The tone was joking, although the look on Therese's face told Carol that perhaps the quick jab stabbed a little deeper than she had intended. So perhaps she _was_ drunk beyond the point of making this encounter go anything but badly. "Don't worry about it. I'm Carol Aird. But not _Carole._ "

There was that darling smile once more. "Carol," she repeated, if for no reason other than to feel that name upon her lips. And how Carol _loved_ the way Therese said her name. "It's a lovely name. I'm Therese Belivet… No, no. Semco. Therese Semco. But not _Thereese_." Therese looked awkward, venusian, as though she was both here and there, but she was smiling, and she was _beautiful_. Carol liked it.

"Therese, treize." She grinned, and leaned forward, propping up her chin with her hands. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

Despite expecting her to cringe at this statement, Therese actually laughed. "Well, you wouldn't be terribly wrong." Her expression sours. This girl wore her heart on her sleeve. "Richard, he's always doing things like this. I'm not… Not really a high-rise girl. These big establishments, they're not really my thing."

"Or is it because you're out with him?"

The look of pause and hesitation is all Carol needs to know that she was right. The corners of her lips turned into a smirk. "No, that's not it at all," Therese said, perhaps only after noticing that Carol's smile was akin to that of a cat's. Carol had the strangest feeling, one that said she knew exactly what Therese's next words would be. "It's just that he likes to rush into things, that's it."

 _So he forced you into marriage_ , is what Carol wanted to say, but she figured she'd already prodded too much into Therese's marital matters for one night.

"Let's take it a little slower then," Carol offered, and freed up one hand to take another sip of martini. For the confidence boost. "Therese Semco, yes? What is it that you do?"

Therese stared at Carol's drink, looking rather unfocused. "Nothing important, really. I'm a pianist. I'm not the best, of course not, but I do simple shows. Richard says my photography is my best skill. I've never sold anything, ha. I mean. I haven't even put together a portfolio, not yet…" Her speech had been gradually speeding up as time past. Carol's silence seemed to get her to freeze. "Oh, I'm rambling."

"No, that was interesting." Carol's immediate thoughts went to the grand in her home. Harge had been the only one to play it after Carol's father died. They had neither the mind nor time to get the damn thing moved, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, Therese would one day be playing a song for you. "I'll hire you to play for me someday. And I'm sure you have a wonderful eye for art."

"Maybe," Therese replied, a giddy little grin curling her lips. "What about you, Ms. Aird—"

"Carol, darling."

"Oh, um, sorry. Carol." She made a face, as though the thought of not being able to use honorific titles was disrespectful. Carol repressed the urge to grin wider. "You must do something interesting, right?"

She laughed. "No, hardly. I'm an employee for a furniture store; I sell things. In other words, a commonplace job you'd find just about anywhere else in New York. There's significantly less pianists with an affinity for photography."

"Probably not," Therese said, but giggled nonetheless. Carol wondered if a stranger making passes at you, a married woman, was an appropriate thing to be laughing about. Well, with her luck, nothing would be taken seriously.

Carol took a pause to look into the corner where Richard had lumbered off to. It looked like he was heading back to his table—looking much more pleased, assuming something like that was even possible in the first place. With _his_ ego…

Perhaps Carol was being unnecessarily bitter.

"Hey, what's this?" Richard pulled into a third seat, and Carol turned to give him a polite smile. He already had some unnamed drink for himself, and slid something of similar make Therese's way. She stared down at it, making it fairly obvious she wasn't about to drink. "I leave for a minute, and Terry's already making friends!" His boisterous attitude was annoying at best, and completely unbearable at the very worst. "Richard Semco, Therese's husband. And you?"

"Carol Aird," she supplied him, with a heedless wink. Formalities were a natural given. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Semco. Is this your first time here?"

Therese shifted uncomfortably, and Carol threw a semi-reassuring look her way.

"Yeah," Richard chuckled. "Friend rec'd us the place, figured it'd be a great way to spend our first evening out as spouses." The touch of venom in his voice didn't go unnoticed, but Carol smiled as though she hadn't caught it. Therese and Richard's eyes made contact with each other for a hard moment, and she was the first to break away. He looked at Carol, just as joyous as he'd been before. _To save face,_ she thought.

"I take it that you've just moved in, yes? And you've never been to New York in the past?" She leaned in.

"I have," Richard raised his hand. "Not Terry, though. To be honest, though, I've only visited once with Phil." One bout of nervous laughter, and a slightly annoyed look was shot in his general direction, via Therese.

"I could show you around," Carol offered.

"Shucks, Mrs. Aird." _Miss Aird_ , but Carol won't correct him, "That sounds like a grand offer, but I'll be in my studio working on illustration for most of the week. A lil' longer and a lil' later than a regular work day, I'm afraid. Terry though…" They look at each other, and Therese offers up nothing but an indifferent—no, not indifferent, it was unsure, but Therese certainly cared—shrug.

"I should be free on Sunday, then?" Carol picked up her glass to take a drink, but upon realizing that there was nothing left, she instead settled for disinterestedly swirling around the backwash in her glass. "Of course, if you'd rather not, I'm more than happy to wait."

"No," Therese said. She sounded as though she needed a bit of convincing herself; Carol wondered, and felt. "Sunday is good."

Sunday was good.


	2. rangefinding

Sunday was arguably not as good as drunk Carol had made it out to be.

It wasn't like their schedules didn't line up, or anything like that. But with a day to ponder the prospect of touring around this woman, of which she had only known for a collective thirty minutes— _at best_ —Carol found her anxiety ramped up unusually high. "Let's see," Carol mumbled into her coffee, the self-criticism just as bitter as her lukewarm beverage. "You're a thirty-year-old woman getting anxious because you agreed to meet up with a woman who _can't_ be any older than twenty-five. What's wrong with you?" The sigh was sharp, the noise that bounced around the room as Carol practically slammed the cup down even sharper.

Her phone was charging on the countertop, and Carol snatched it to take a quick glance through her contacts. Therese's number sat somewhere in the middle. Carol thumbed over the keyboard absentmindedly. They had shared one text conversation since that night at Gertrude's, and that had only been Therese asking if Carol had gotten home alright.

It wouldn't hurt to remind Therese about today, of course. Or even give a gentle reminder that she totally didn't have to do this at all, that if Therese was creeped out, then this whole thing could be called off.

[Carol Aird – 10:09 AM]: Hey Therese … Just wanted to ask if u were still interested in coming out w/ me today? :)

The message looked unthreatening, and it certainly didn't give off the air of unease. Good enough for Carol, who promptly hit send. With no more time to second-guess herself, Carol carried her phone with her to slink back to her abandoned cup of coffee.

Her lament hadn't lasted for all that long before Carol's phone vibrated, with what could only be Therese's response.

[Therese – 10:13 AM]: Oh, yes. Of course!

[Therese – 10:13 AM]: Were you planning to pick me up? I can send you my address. Actually, hold on…

[Therese – 10:14 AM]: _Click link to view._

Carol allowed herself a congratulatory sip of coffee, almost immediately reprimanding herself for thinking a damn sip of bean juice could be considered a reward in any fashion. Or that she even deserved a reward in the first place. Because what, she hadn't been flat out rejected? Congratulations, Carol, you've accomplished nigh nothing. Well. If nothing else, she now felt considerably more awake than she had in the past ten minutes. And Therese's apartment was pleasantly close to Carol's own place that ( _hopefully_ , she prayed to whichever deity she had yet to piss off) traffic wouldn't be much of an issue.

[Carol Aird – 10:15 AM]: Yes, I can pick u up from there :) How do you feel abt being picked up 12:00? If that isnt too early.

[Therese – 10:15 AM]: That will do wonderfully. I'll meet you outside at 12. :)

Well, that appeared to be that. With just under two hours to spare, Carol supposed that she may as well stop lamenting over the world (in other words, herself) and its mysteries (in other words, her choices made in a high-end bar off the edge of Manhattan) and finish cleaning up. A sigh escaped her before she forced the final drops of coffee down.

After a good twenty minutes of fussing around with clothes, Carol took a quick glance at herself in the mirror. She looked decent, perhaps a little overdressed for the situation (it wasn't as though Carol planned to take Therese to dinner, though it was a concept she didn't mind entirely). It'd have to do for now because if Carol knew herself well she figured she'd get sucked into a thought that would cause her to show up late.

Go figure.

Carol had left the house ten minutes later than she planned. Seeing as how life had its 'quirks', otherwise known as a penchant for ruining her, she pulled up to Therese's apartment nearly a half hour later than what she'd intended. Therese was leaning up against the wall of her apartment and staring contemplatively, almost contentedly into her phone.

"Hey Therese," Carol called out, poking her head out the window. Therese looked up, smiled, and bounded towards her.

"I almost thought you were ditching me," she admitted sheepishly. As though it would have been her fault for thinking that way. It was now Carol's turn to offer up a sheepish smile.

"God, I'm sorry. Here, hop in." Therese did, and began to do her seatbelt. Idly, without thinking too much of it, Carol took a cigarette out of her pocket and lit up. "Therese, you've eaten already, haven't you?"

The seatbelt clicked into place, and Therese turned to look at Carol. "Oh, actually. I hadn't, not quite yet. I only woke up the moment you texted me."

"Would you like to?" Carol wasn't going to be the one to take 'no' for an answer, not now. She had already started to drive, just as Therese hummed a note of affirmation.

Carol nodded in turn. Traffic was starting to pick up, but Carol found that with Therese by her side, she couldn't have really cared how long it took to get there. The only thing she wished for was something to fill the silence, other than the background noise of a Sunday morning and a lazy tune playing on the radio. But what could Carol say? To talk about? She ground her cigarette butt into her ashtray and absentmindedly tapped a finger against her lips.

The two of them found a diner that Carol had never seen before in her life, and it felt right. Therese seemed pleased enough as they sat. "Have you done anything interesting since Friday?" Carol asked after a moment of silence.

"No, not me." Therese pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm still getting settled. It's been a while since I had to move, I forgot how… How it feels. I suppose I'll have to go job hunting sooner rather than later…" Their eyes met, and Carol grinned.

"You're not from New York, right?"

"I'm Czech. Meeting Richard was more chance than anything else, really. We just happened to be visiting Paris at the same time," Therese mumbled, looking down into her lap. "And now I'm here."

The waitress came to them wearing a smile oozing with superficial pleasantries. She wore the kind of smile that could only be held up with twelve shots of Botox and the weight of her sins. "What do you want to order?"

"Therese?"

"Oh. Um." Therese fumbled to take a quick look at the menu, much to the waitress's irritation. "Eggs with bacon, er. Scrambled. With… With coffee. That's it." An awkwardly lopsided grin graced her features, and the waitress took the menus without a word.

Therese stared at her backside before she turned to make a face in Carol's direction. Carol asked, "Your Richard is an illustrator, yes?" The interest she held for Mr. Semco was a slim nothing, but she needed to ask _something_.

"He wishes," Therese said with an impassive shrug. "He's not very good." She paused, then sighed. "I suppose that makes me a bad wife, doesn't it? Women are supposed to support their husbands."

How Carol would have loved to say something against it, but since when did she have the right to speak? _Oh, Harge, it's fine if you miss our anniversary for your corporate meeting. Rindy won't miss you. New Years? It's fine. I'm fine._ How she hated how amenable she'd been back in the day. Perhaps one day, Therese would think the same thoughts. Carol toyed around with more reassuring phrases in her mind. "I'm sure he loves you," she settled for instead.

Therese snorted in response, as if to say 'That's all he ever says'. Harge had been like that too, once upon a time, and Carol found herself relating more and more to her plight. Arguably, that was not something she should have been doing.

"Anyways," she continued, "What do you want to see? New York has lots to offer, although I admit that the charms start to wear off in the first week."

Therese caught Carol's grin, and she grinned back. "I don't have a place in mind—I suppose I should have thought of that before I left the apartment, hm?"

"Well," Carol spoke, just as the waitress turned round to set down the meal. A quick and polite thanks (one that had been acknowledged with nothing more than an uncaring groan), and Carol's attention was back on her. "You do photography, right? I'm sure you could find something to photograph in New York. Weird things have been happening far too long and with far too little camera attention on it."

She giggled, almost on the verge of spitting out pale yellow egg.

"We have museums, gardens, hell. You could probably take a picture of a crowded street with a last-generation camera and _still_ make it look good."

"Oh, I'd like to see the gardens." There had hardly been a pause between them. There was an unspoken thought as well; 'I'd like to see all of it with you'.

"There's a ton of gardens out there. Have a particular one in mind?"

Therese giggled again, and what a lovely sound it was. "Aren't they all the same?"

So they went to the gardens. Plants and flowers, they seemed nothing more than niceties to Carol in the past. Therese must have regarded them as more or less the same, and yet Carol found herself enjoying a walk in the sun more than she should have

Carol kneeled down to inspect a patch of tulips, and she had only seen the light reflecting off the camera as she turned back around. "Oh gosh," she grinned, raising her arms in a halfhearted attempt to conceal her face. "I didn't know today was picture day."

Therese paused for a moment, seemingly unsure if she was being toyed with or not. "I should have asked first." She looked down at her camera. "Sorry, I won't develop that—"

"Shh. Don't worry about it," Carol spoke, rising to her feet. "Show me the photo when you can, won't you?" Therese nodded fervently.

They ended up taking a few more photos that day, some of which Carol posed for, but for the most part, Therese wanted to keep the photos candid. It was starting to grow into a habit, Carol peeking over her shoulder to see if there was a camera pointed in her direction.

"What kind of camera is that?" Carol asked, peering over Therese's shoulder as she exchanged film. "I was under the impression that photographers didn't use film anymore."

Therese didn't look up, "It's a Canon IIF Rangefinder."

"Which means?"

"Oh." She paused, just for the slightest of moments. "It's an old camera from the early 1950's. Rangefinders are probably the best cameras out there for street photography—says an unnamed photography blogger, anyway. Film photography is something I've been doing for a few years now, I even learned how to develop my own film. Our new apartment has a dark room. The uh, place where you develop photos."

"From the 1950's, huh? How interesting." Carol hummed and pulled away. "How'd you manage to get your hands on one of those?"

"A wedding gift from Richard's father. He says his father used to be a photographer, and that I might have some use for this old thing." Therese pushed the film into place and closed up the camera with a satisfying click. She waved the camera in front of Carol with the faint inklings of a smile. "Here, let's try something."

Therese shuffled over to Carol's side, and held the camera up, facing them. "I haven't tried taking a selfie with a rangefinder before. The settings are all manual, it might not even look good…"

"Take the shot," Carol said, and Therese did. There was no click of the shutter, but she seemed to deem the photo as taken, and she let out a satisfied huff.

Turning back to Carol, Therese shoved the Canon back into her bag. "That's that," she said.

"When do you think your studio will be set up?"

"I don't know, Wednesday at the very latest? Probably sooner, I just need to get the chemicals in some time."

"Do you think I could come over sometime and see the place? I'd love to see the photo as it's being developed, and I want to know more about what you do. If… If that's alright, of course."

Their gazes met, and for a moment, Therese looked like she'd been tossed out of some far-off corner of the universe, and that her landing had put her in a daze. That kind of distant look that said she was distracted by something, distracted maybe even by Carol. And she watched expectantly as Therese's gaze shifted back into focus. "... Yes. I'd love that."

Carol grinned. "You're a delight, Therese Semco. You know, we should do this again sometime. Not the gardens thing, not immediately. We could go for lunch. Maybe you'd like the museums."

"We could bring Richard along," Therese added, as much as Carol hoped that she wouldn't. And as soon as that thought entered her mind, Carol pushed it away. Those were the intimations of a feeling she had thought she was through and done with. Those were the intimations of a feeling that she was not going to allow herself to feel, not now.

"We could," she said. How she wanted to say that she didn't _want_ Richard there. But she only knew as much about Therese as one could in a day. To become so clingy now, what kind of grown woman did that? She couldn't even begin to _imply_ that Richard's presence was unwanted. "Just let me know whenever you're free."

Therese must have caught the nuance of her expression. How could she not? Carol was nothing if not obvious. "I will," she said finally, and looked out ahead of them. Into the sun that wasn't quite setting, but almost there. "I should get going. Richard's just as bad as a nanny when he's worried."

"We should get going, then."

As Carol drove Therese back to her apartment, she found that she was deliberately stopping herself from taking the extra glance in Therese's direction. For a reason she knew only vaguely, a reason that she preferred not to name.

Carol did look her way once when she sounded out a giggly little "Click!". Therese was holding up the camera, wearing a look that promised nothing but more images to come. She couldn't poker face for much longer, and Carol grinned.

She'd never really been comfortable with her photo being taken before.

For Therese? She could bear it.


	3. depth of field

"You know you're fucked, right?"

Carol took in a drag of smoke, and sighed as she breathed out. "God, I _wish_." The joke fell somewhat flat on Abby's ears. It was a little unfair; Abby made seedy jokes like that all the time. "Oh, come on. I expected you to at least _pretend_ it was funny, Abigail."

"I'm being serious here, Care-bear." Carol made a face at the childhood nickname. Abby simply misinterpreted her offhanded glare. "Oh, don't give me that look. The only way you could be deeper in shit is if you ended up fucking her. Wait, wait, I can do one better; if she liked you back."

"I do _not_ like her, Abby. Not… Not like that. She's cute, yeah, but so are half the women in New York. _You're_ cute, but we've both moved past that." Actually, Carol was pretty sure that _she_ was the only one who's moved past it, but for decency's sake, she's never commented on it aloud.

Abby's eyes rolled. "Do you talk about all cute girls as though they're the second coming of Christ? Girl, I know you're trying the whole 'sad depressed ex-missus' shit, but hell, you could have waited a little longer. Y'know, long enough to go gaga-eyed over someone who _isn't_ married? Almost certainly straight?"

"Alright, alright. I get it. God." Carol rubbed her temple with one hand, tapped ashes into her tray with the other. She watched with "I've only known her for half a week, isn't that pathetic?"

"Aren't you kinda pathetic yourself?" Abby's eyes twinkled mischievously. "It's alright, babe. You're just on the tipping edge of the fence right now. With any luck, you'll fall out of the shit pit."

She sighed for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that week. "Do you think if I fell on her side, she'd catch me in her arms?"

"Carol…" Abby shook her head in disbelief and laughed. "I hope you fall flat on your ass."

Despite herself, Carol found a smile inch upon her lips. It would only be Abby who could lift up her moods despite the shittiest of situations. The smile turned wide, and she seemed to study this look for a moment. "You've got a date with her today, right?"

"It's not a date. And her husband's joining us," Carol shrugged. Abby raised a finger as though she were about to raise an excellent point. "Oh, shut your mouth, Abby. As though I was going to pull anything on our second meeting."

There was a logical progression to this kind of thing, a progression that was cut off because Therese was married and because Carol was certainly not interested. Abby's tried to predict Carol's interests and flings for the past ten years, and seldom few have actually proceeded past anything but a distant attraction. Simply because Carol had been married. Even now that she wasn't, she found herself to be content with her situation. No, romance was a nice thing to know and experience, but Carol would never want to do that, repeat any of her mistakes with Harge again.

"Ha, well," Abby clicked her tongue and hoisted herself out of the seat. "You were gettin' ready to leave, right? I'll drive you."

"You're a blessing, Abby." Carol closed her eyes and after a moment, darted up as well.

Along the way, Abby continued to poke and prod at her temperament in the way that only Abby could do. Carol laughed, but she was hyper aware of the fact that her answers were indirect. Was Abby aware of that too? No, she couldn't be. She may have known Carol for more than anyone's ever known her, but she didn't look much further beyond the surface. Before her lamentation could last, Abby was already unlocking the doors.

"Here you are! Go get her, tiger."

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

Carol grinned at Abby's own smiling face, before waving her off. She checked her phone one last time, to make sure she had the right address (a silly thing to do, as though Carol hadn't already memorized the address by heart). With only an indistinct feeling of certainty, she rung the door. A second later, a man opened up. It took a moment for recognition to light up his features, but Richard Semco seemed pleased enough to see her.

"Mrs. Aird!" Richard extended a happy hand Carol's way, to which she took with a smile. "Therese didn't tell me you'd be coming over."

"Did she?"

"That must've been why she's been cleaning the place so vigilantly. She told me about the blast you guys had on Sunday." Richard turned his head to call out into the apartment. "Terry! Your lady friend's here!"

Therese's curious face poked out from behind the wall only a second later, and Carol felt herself smiling. Not without some form of caution—her previous conversation with Abby had yet to sink into the back of her mind. "Carol," she greeted, walking up to them.

Her hair was tied up loosely behind her head, and Carol couldn't help but think that it was a good look on her. There were flecks of paint speckled sparsely on her turtleneck. The mark of careless concentration. "You look like you've been busy."

"Yes. I finished setting up the darkroom, actually! Here, come in." Therese made a light gesture to urge Carol to come closer into her apartment. Richard stepped back accordingly, but there was a hostile look in his eyes. A look that held a distant challenge, one that looked over her and made Carol wonder if her eagerness was just as apparent as Abby claimed it to be.

No, he wouldn't have been able to tell. What would he know anyways?

"Looks homely," Carol commented. The place was a little dingy, more worn than an apartment should look, but an immaculate place wouldn't be Therese. "It's nice."

Therese smiled breezily and she felt her heart lifted by the wind.

Richard trailed behind them. "Terry tells me you make a good model. That's good—her photography has a sad lack of human touch to it." Carol hummed disinterestedly to acknowledge him. "The photos look like they'll turn out pretty well."

"They're also just practice, really," said Therese with a hint of embarrassment to her tone. Richard seemed the type to boast about everything; his talent, his plans for the future, his wife. She wondered for a moment how much he liked to talk about Therese, how much could he ramble about her? And then she realized it hardly mattered.

"The darkroom's in here," Therese spoke, opening the door to a room. Carol peered inside for a brief moment before she stepped in. Giving herself a moment for her eyes to adjust revealed a wholly different world. Carol was reminded of a sort of dystopian universe. The room smelt of vinegar and a certain something else that she could hardly name. Therese's face, amber in the light, looked expectant. She looked away in favor of studying the drying photos on the wall.

"These are nice."

She had forgotten Richard's presence up until he piped up from somewhere behind her, "Aren't they? Therese is always so ridiculously modest with her work."

Therese's eyebrows raised only slightly. Despite the light, Carol could make out how her dimples flourished, and there was a sudden urge to run her hands over Therese's cheek. What would she feel? How her muscles twinged with the inklings of a smile, every bump and dip of her skin. "It's not modesty if they suck," Therese joked, and Carol almost laughed with her.

The three went to lunch, somewhere close. A green tarp laced with gold _fwipped_ around in the wind for a fraction of a second, and then it laid still. The interior made the place look a little archaic, not the kind of place that had struck Carol as a place Richard would choose. She supposed that he wanted to impress her, a desire he felt without even thinking about it. If nothing else, it was quiet, even when nearly full. They sat in a booth. Richard tried to make small talk but despite Carol's answers and chatters, her mind was elsewhere.

The waiter had only just set down the appetizers when Richard's phone rang. Therese gave him a look of curious caution. "It's Phil," Richard said, almost pleadingly and stood up to take it.

Carol leaned up against her hand, and carefully picked up a piece of breaded cheese and stuck it into her mouth. "Huh, I wonder if everything's alright," she said, and Therese nodded absently, taking another piece of breaded cheese.

"We'd probably finish this before Richard comes back," Therese commented, and Carol wondered if she could pick up the hints of bitterness in her tone. Perhaps she didn't care at all; the disinterest, the look of ennui, they said volumes in those looks alone. What was she supposed to pick up from all of this?

"Do you mind?"

Therese said nothing, gazing directly into Carol's eyes. And for a moment, Carol grew frustrated. It was unreasonable, she supposed. _What part of it is unreasonable_ , she wondered, to _expect that a question asked is answered?_ "Do you?"

"Hm," Therese paused for a moment. Her mouth formed multiple shapes in the span of a second, before she shrugged. It was less effort than an actual answer. "What am I supposed to feel about it? It's a thing that happens."

Carol's lips pursed and stretched into a thin line. "When you learn that you can refuse things you don't like, then you'll learn that you can change things you don't like as well." The conversation died there, because Therese said nothing else, and she herself didn't feel much of a need to tie dead ends.

Therese stared past Carol's shoulder; the same far-out look she held on Sunday. With a slight jolt, her gaze went to her lap, her chest, and she started picking at the bits of white paint. Perhaps she might have been embarrassed that she didn't change before they left. Richard had been insistent that they leave at once, oddly so, because this place always filled up around this time. Despite the fact that it hadn't.

She had been right about the appetizers. As Richard came back to them, he noticed the empty plate and gave a gasp of mock offense. "You didn't save anything for me!" he complained, sliding back into his original seat. Carol shifted around with a slight feeling of unease.

"Sorry, they really were too good," said Therese, and this struck Richard as unbelievably funny. He laughed, kissed at her cheek and Carol gazed away instinctively. A stray wind was blowing up leaves outside the restaurant.

Richard sighed and apologized as well. Phil had been talking about how his older brother was going to be going out with him, and how he wanted Therese and Richard to go to some party. The kind of thing that Carol, personally, saw as a little silly, but she wasn't in any position to comment. Dannie was a physicist, but he'd been working as an online journalist before he started attending university. Phil spoke about how he might have been able to hook Therese up with some kind of job in photojournalism, assuming the interaction went well. "I can extend the invitation to you, if you'd like," he said, and it took her a moment to realize that he was speaking to her. It didn't take much thought for Carol to shake her head.

"No, it's fine," she said, staring at the cutlery laid out upon the table. "Not my kind of scene."

The explanation seemed to do well enough for the two of them. Time couldn't have passed any faster for Carol's tastes, really. But once she got past the initial discomfort that came from a place she couldn't exactly name, she found that she was enjoying herself. Even Richard's presence had done nothing to put a damper on her mood (and she might have even realized that perhaps it was silly of her to want to exclude him in the first place). Her only regret was that it had ended far too soon.

* * *

"You can stop here," Carol said, pointing out in a general direction. Therese was already back at their apartment, because Richard said she wanted a word with her, and that he'd be out shopping for a little bit after he dropped her off anyways. Therese, after a moment of hesitation, agreed that she'd rather be working. Carol was left feeling somewhat confused, but unperturbed.

"Hey, thanks," he spoke. It wasn't exactly what she had been expecting. Then again, she didn't know what she had been thinking in the first place. "I mean… Therese hasn't had any genuine friends in a long time. Not any friends that she's met herself. She's kind of flighty, you know? Even getting her to move up to New York with me was a huge issue. But she seems to like you, and I can really only hope that lasts."

They stared at each other for a moment. Carol was speechless, funded mostly by the fact that there was really nothing she could say. She reached for a contrived answer, the polite answer. "It's not a problem. I like Therese."

"That's good. Anyways, have a good one, Mrs. Aird!"

Carol tried to smile back as she stepped out of the vehicle. "You too, Richard."

And yet, even as she spoke, there was a feeling in her chest. An array of complex emotions, many of which she couldn't even begin to put a name to.


	4. aperture

The photo hung off the edge of the mirror back at the house, and Carol thought of it with a certain fondness.

Carol had been at Therese's apartment a few times since the restaurant meeting; the last time they met together, she had walked Carol through the process of photo development. She could remember the look of distaste, maybe with added embarrassment on Therese's face. "It's not very good," she stated. Carol felt as though there had been a few other things she wanted to pick apart, but Carol had loved the photo. It was a slight touch out of focus, and the camera had been held at an odd angle, but it gave her a sort of pleasure to look at. Perfectly imperfect, despite Therese's frets and qualms.

Rindy had seemed to like the photo as well. She didn't really care about the other woman in the photo (a decidedly good thing, because Carol wouldn't have known how to speak about Therese in the presence of her own child), but had instead deemed it a good photo because "mommy looks pleased". The implication that Carol was carrying herself more depressedly than she was in the past was not exactly an implication she cared much for. Then again, Rindy was only but a child, and children weren't exactly tainted by the complications of social interaction.

The child sat patiently, swinging her feet side to side in time to the music. Harge had bought her the CD to present to her on a date, and as much as their animosity towards each other ruined any sort of chance they had at reconciliation, she had to admit that his taste in music was damned good.

This song in particular had been something that Carol listened to often, but she had never exactly taken the time to listen to the finer details of the song, or even really analyze the lyrics. A breezy piano hammered out an interlude that reminded Carol of puddled rain.

 _I really like the differences you bring when you arrive… You didn't tell your wife you're here, and baby, that's alright…_

Carol's train of thought stopped to focus on the lyrics. The song had never carried any sort of connotation to her before, and before she could stop herself, a certain Therese popped into her mind. Lord, how she despised herself for it. She hadn't noticed how tight her grip had been around the steering wheel until a thread of pain shot through her knuckle.

 _Tell me how long until you say you love me… Tell me how long until you say you're mine… Call me morning, noon or night, I'll make it rain or shine…_

A breath was sucked in through her teeth. Rindy had started humming the melody, bobbing her head gently to the beat. An endearing sight, truly, but it was a little dampened by Carol's own stupid thoughts and her inability to control them. A phrase from maybe a couple of years ago struck her suddenly, with the weight of a semi. _It's basically reverse psychology; the more you try to convince yourself you're not into this thing, the more you get into it._

It might have been proving true now. Carol changed the song the moment it started delving into words about affairs. Rindy made a noise of protest for only a fraction of a second before the next song started playing.

They stopped at the Aird residence. Harge's mother stepped out of the house the moment she had seen Carol's vehicle pull up to the front. Holding back a grimace, she turned down the music with one hand and rolled down the windows with another. "Carol," she said with what might have been distaste. Carol smiled nervously.

"Jennifer," she greeted in turn. It was a hardly disguised secret that Jennifer had never exactly been a fan of her. For the most picky reasons, really. Owning a piano but never caring to play it and never playing with a bridge. How she wore her hair, how she dressed, her occupation and everything inbetween. While it annoyed her at times, it more or less just made her uneasy.

"Rindy's with you?"

"Yes, of course, she's in back."

"Let her out, then." Jennifer paused for a moment, then relented. "Harge said he wanted to see you. He's waiting in the kitchen."

Despite the fact that her tone left very little room for discussion, if any, Carol had no desire to see Harge. "He can call me if he wants to see me that badly." That aspect of Carol's personality too, the flightiness, was another reason that Jennifer didn't like her.

"He'd _really_ like to see you."

The look shared between the two of them was tense and stormy. Carol realized, only at that moment that there wasn't anything substantial stopping her from letting Rindy out and then just booking it. Jennifer might forget about this in a week (the conviction sounded as weak as a dying lighter), and then Carol could pick up Rindy with only the tiniest pricks of anxiety in her gut. Yet Jennifer had a way of making it seem like she could only do things one way: hers.

"... Fine," Carol said finally. One day she'd learn to say no.

Rindy had been the first to run to Harge. He nearly dropped the cup of coffee he'd been rolling around idly. He might have been looking at business reports, or maybe it was just an article or printed email. "How's my little girl?" he asked with a smile, pulling Rindy closer to him. Carol leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"I'm good," Rindy replied cheerily, snuggling into his sleeve. "Mommy got me ice cream. Cheesecake flavoured."

Harge's smile widened, perhaps at the slur in Rindy's voice. She had yet to learn how to pronounce her L's properly and Carol had been wrong in thinking that Harge would be annoyed with that. Carol had been wrong about Harge in general, she supposed.

"How's my other girl?" He asked, turning to look up at her.

Carol's breath hitched.

"Don't. Don't say that," she whispered softly, as though Rindy couldn't hear her, if it would mean the end of the world. _I'm not your girl. I was never your woman. Yours._ Then, more loudly, "Your mother said you wanted to speak to me." _So get on with it_ , she'd have liked to add, but there was something of a vulnerability in Harge's expression. And then she began to remember the things she'd said behind his back, to other people, to herself. _He's incapable of love, except for maybe Rindy._ That was not the look of the man Carol had wed for ten years.

She was feeling oddly compassionate.

"Yes, well…" His voice trailed off, and his thumbs danced with each other in Rindy's lap. "Sy Harrison's wife. Jeanette? Jeanette. She's holding a party and she asked me to invite you. On the Thursday. Do with that what you will."

Carol searched her mind for an excuse. Parties with Harge were never parties for her, they were parties where she was nothing more than the pretty mink coat draped around his arm, the eye candy. His validation that he had made it in life, that he had everything other people wanted and desired. "I have plans," she settled for simply.

"You can't reschedule?" Was that the tiny bits of desperation bleeding into his voice? Carol resolved to narrow her eyes; _You instigated this._ "Carol… Please."

It might have been the softness of his voice, the pleading in his eyes. It might have just been that he simply wasn't yelling at her, and that despite the fact she knew she was being used again, they knew. They both knew that she was done for.

She wasn't getting any better at saying no. But. "Could you call Jeanette and ask if I'm allowed to bring a friend?"

"Abby?" She despised the venom in his voice. Perhaps he might not have seen it, but it was there, lingering in his words, coiled and swirling like a snake ready to pounce. Carol felt self-conscious suddenly, as though there was something wrong with her for wanting to remain friends.

"No," Carol replied. She had not told Harge of Therese, and she would not tell him of her. The things he'd say came to mind and she hated that she was afraid. "You haven't met her before." Would Therese like Harge? No, she wouldn't. He was all business, all bark, a threatening and stormy man. She might think him dull. Unlike Therese, who could light up the room simply by existing.

A moment of silence passed between them. Rindy inched out of Harge's arms and ran up to her room.

"That's not all you wanted."

"No, it isn't." Harge agreed. "But I think we can talk about it another time. When we're both ready for it." Carol nodded. The air was suffocating, and she didn't _want_ to be in this stuffy room with a man she didn't like. She hardly thought she'd ever be ready.

* * *

She hadn't really been sure that Therese would want to go to the party in the first place. Yet, here she was, actual angel incarnate. "Bless you," Carol said hurriedly, embracing Therese without much of a second thought. In the back of her mind, she registered the way Therese stiffened and awkwardly tried to return, but Carol's head was spinning. "Bless you, Therese."

"Oh, it sounded fun," Therese tried to explain, choked up, but Carol supposed that she hadn't really wanted to do this in the first place. "Your ex-husband is named Harge, right?"

"Yes," Carol said, slowing down the pace. They were almost at Jeanette's now. She had suggested that they walk to the place, because they had the time and the weather was decent. Though in actuality, she wouldn't mind being late, she wouldn't mind simply ditching, and she especially wouldn't mind spending all that lost time with Therese.

"I can stay by your side the whole night. If… If that's what you want, of course." She sounded unsure, as though there was a sort of thing she wasn't supposed to impose on Carol.

"Please," she responded, sounding far more anxious than what she wanted to let on. She forced out a laugh. "I was under the impression that you would, actually."

Jeanette greeted the two of them with a warm smile and a European greeting Carol's way. "Harge told me you might show up," she said pleasantly, before her eyes settled on Therese. "She's a friend of yours, Carol?"

"Yes," Carol responded, gesturing to the woman beside her. "Jeanette, this is Therese. Therese? Jeanette." Jeanette seemed to take to Therese quite well, and she ushered them on while babbling about something like desserts. They slipped away as the next wave of guests were coming in, sharing a look of vague amusement.

As soon as the two were out of earshot, Therese leaned over to Carol. "She's an energetic character, isn't she?"

Harge was waiting for them—for Carol in the living room. Amongst the hustle and bustle of dancing couples, his eyes sought her out. Dimly aware of Therese's fingers ghosting the sleeve of her dress, she nodded to nothing. "That's him, over there."

Therese had nothing to say, but Harge certainly did. He walked towards them slowly with an air of resignation, an attempt to seem courteous. "Carol, you're here." He attempted the same greeting as Jeanette, only Carol knew he'd be kissing more than the air next to her cheek, and she drew away.

"This is Therese Semco," she said good-naturedly, waving an arm in Therese's general direction. "Therese, this is Hargess Aird."

"Pleased to meet you," said Therese, extending a hand for Harge to take. He stared at it with a sort of distaste before her hand was lowered, embarrassed.

Carol cleared her throat. "Jeanette mentioned sweets, at the door. Therese and I wanted to grab something, before they're all gone."

Harge let them leave, and she was sure that even Therese could feel the disappointment that hung around him. He had wanted to see Carol alone, he wanted… He wanted Carol. "He's a controlling man," she said out loud, half to Therese and half to the air. "The hypocrisy is baffling."

"Hypocrisy?" Therese mirrored before she stuck a forkful of sponge cake into her mouth.

Carol sighed. She needed a drink _and_ a cigarette, but she'd left her purse in the car and she didn't have a mind to go back for it. She didn't want to ask Therese either. She'd have to settle for the whiskey. "You know? He thinks I might change my mind about the divorce someday. God, if only I had the ability to; Rindy would be so much better off for it." It occurred to her that she hadn't really mentioned Rindy to Therese. "We had a child," she explained hurriedly. "She gets bounced between the two of us. It's a hassle."

"I can imagine," Therese mumbled behind another bite of cake.

Carol looked to her. It very much could have been the alcohol talking, as it had that first night at the bar. "You're stunning in that dress, Therese. You clean up incredibly well." Was Therese aware of that? Aware of how her voice hung in the air, deep and wanting something that could never really be promised. She could have added that Richard was lucky, and a lucky man he was, but to compromise a friendship so early? She was a little tipsy, but not stupid.

Therese met her gaze nervously, as though she was trying to hide behind the porcelain plate and the yellow pastry atop of it. There was a coveted thankfulness in her eyes, but Carol's eyes were roaming again.

"How's the cake taste?" Carol decided to ask, shifting gears. Maybe she made Therese uncomfortable, she was overstepping boundaries. Therese seemed to be a guilt-driven person, and undoubtedly the idea that she was only sticking around with Carol because she was playing the role of distressed and bored housewife all too well was a possibility. A sobering, disquieting one.

The fork, another piece of cake hanging off it was waved around Carol's lips. "Try it for yourself?" The statement was bold, especially considering who it was coming from. She smiled feeling giddy and goofy, and wrapped her lips around it. The silly atmosphere was lost immediately and instead filled with something heavier. Therese's lips were parted just a bit, Carol took in the flavour of the cake.

"Mmm." Carol pulled back, giving a parting lick to the fork, testing her luck. Therese looked away nervously, gaze flicking anywhere, everywhere. An impish little grin came to her lips, unbidden.

 _The alcohol, definitely the alcohol._

"You should get a new fork," she said, and propped an elbow up on the table.

"It's fine."

"Oh?"

To prove her point, or perhaps to try and fluster Carol, Therese scooped a particularly large portion of the cake into her mouth. Carol snorted in a halfhearted attempt to hold back a laugh; the poor thing looked ridiculous.

Harge hadn't bothered them for the rest of the party, but Carol's eyes did nervously peer around to look at him, to make sure that he wasn't coming up. The topic of the discussion earlier that week came to mind, but Therese by her side kept those worries in a much warmer, much further place.


End file.
